


if you don’t know

by mysterytwin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Pining Kageyama Tobio, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22357657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterytwin/pseuds/mysterytwin
Summary: Kageyama knows Hinata will never look at him the same way he does. Hinata will never look at him and think of stuttering heartbeats, of almost touches, of unkissed lips. Hinata will never look at Kageyama and think oflove.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 27
Kudos: 176





	if you don’t know

**Author's Note:**

> “You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.”  
> —Richard Sicken

How do you tell someone you love them?

There is no script to follow, no cue cards, no formula. No one really tells you how it goes, or what to say. You practice a confession, in your mind or out loud in front of a mirror, but your stuttering heartbeat makes you trip on your words anyway, and you stumble on your own feelings. Trembling hands held together, a moment of clarity, half-formed words, a message in code. _Please, tell me you hear it._ It’s a secret no one has ever learned the answer to. A prayer for which no words exist. But there should be. There should be. 

It goes like this:

Kageyama is sitting next to Hinata after volleyball practice one afternoon, a little lost in thought. The sky is a deep and dark shade of orange, pink streaks like promised stars. They’re on the steps of the gym, bottles of water next to them, and the wind blows gently across their skin. It’s peaceful, quiet, like the world has settled down and found its pacing. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice tells him _it’s time._ Kageyama tells himself to maybe listen, for once. 

Next to him, Hinata is radiant and beautiful. He is bright-eyed and grinning at faraway thoughts Kageyama knows Hinata will tell him all about later. For now, he dreams, wrapped up in a fantasy that only he can see, where the world is his stage and the sun is at his fingertips. He thinks only of the future, of roads ahead, of potential to be released. He only looks onwards, up to the sky. He holds nothing but promise. Every day, keep going, never stop. March on with reckless determination to win it all, the ground beneath your feet. He is a force to be reckoned with. Kageyama loves him for it. So—

How do you tell someone you love them?

 _It is impossible,_ Kageyama tells himself. How do you tell someone you love them? How would you do so in a way that wouldn’t leave your own heart shattered? How do you find the words you need to leave your feelings laid bare for another to see? How do you do such a thing—something so vulnerable, so fragile? How do you fall apart and leave yourself to hope for the best? How would you do it?

Kageyama is so in love, it’s become the worst thing in the world.

See, Kageyama had fallen in love long before he even realized it. Caught between the last golden rays of the sunset and the view of the horizon behind him, he’d been walking home with Hinata that day, and Hinata had laughed, loud and full of life, at some stupid joke Kageyama had made. Kageyama had looked at him then, and had seen the entire universe in the smile of this small town boy. 

_Oh,_ he thought simply. _It’s going to be you._

Hinata beamed at him, and Kageyama knew he was ruined. 

So Kageyama had smiled back, and he resigned himself to an unrequited love, wondering how it had begun, and how it would end. How long it would last. How, if there was anyone he just had to fall for, he’s glad it was Hinata Shouyou. 

And to this day he is still left to wonder—

How do you tell someone you love them?

A part of him just wants to do it—wants to say it all until there’s nothing left in him. He thinks about just telling Hinata everything, from beginning to finish, how he fell in love a long time ago, and how he is yet to fall out of it. Because he is tired of waiting, of longing. He is tired of being so lonely, only ever wishing and standing by. He is tired of only dreaming about a smile that lights a fire in him down to his very bones, or of skin that scorches his skin with every touch. He is tired of missed opportunities and forgotten chances, of only telling himself _better luck next time._ He is exhausted, tired of repetition, and he’s almost had enough. 

He has tried so desperately to move on, to _forget_ about everything, but when he closes his eyes, Hinata’s smile is the only thing he ever sees. Just when he thinks he’s past it—something always pulls him right back. A grin, a look, a touch. There’s always _something._ But he has tried, believe him, he swears it, and there is only so much he has left in him. There are confessions at the back of his throat, _I like you’s_ at the tip of his tongue, ready to be spoken. But his ribcage restricts it, holds his heart down, keeps the butterflies in check. There is never the right moment, never the right opportunity. He misses every single one of his chances to his own cowardice and fear. And he knows it, he has beaten himself up every day for not being able to say it. He knows. He is terribly, deeply, and hopelessly in love, but he will never admit it. 

Kageyama knows that he’s a fool for loving someone the likes of Hinata Shouyou. Nothing good can come out of loving someone so incandescent, so full of fire and burning—but it was so easy, Kageyama thinks. Hinata is so stupidly easy to love. He is all smiles and bright and amazing. He is funny and stupid and kind. Messy and noisy and unapologetic, he never knows when to quit. He is a solvable problem, all the right answers to the hardest questions. He is the most beautiful thing Kageyama’s ever seen, and Kageyama knows how lucky he is to be able to stand by him. Best and worst and all that’s in between. It doesn’t matter if Hinata can be annoying and quite a handful sometimes, because he’s never really given Kageyama a reason to give up or to leave. He’s not anything like the kind of person Kageyama ever imagined loving, but now he’s the only one Kageyama would ever want. Despite how mismatched their personalities are, they’re strangely compatible on and off the court, and sometimes Kageyama’s convinced it’s a bond that could last forever. 

(And Kageyama’s thoughts are only ever just wreckage, scattered and messy, but with Hinata, they all piece together, like a mosaic broken heart.)

Maybe it’s because Hinata is probably the only person who knows Kageyama well enough to differentiate his grunts and frowns, can tell when he’s truly happy even when his face never changes; or maybe it’s because he’s the only person who can make Kageyama smile so easily, who can make him forget and just relax. Maybe it’s because with Hinata, Kageyama’s head turns quiet, peaceful, and instead of dissonant noise, all last minute anxieties and nerves suddenly fall away with his presence. Maybe it’s because Hinata’s the only one who ever put an effort, who stays even when Kageyama’s being difficult, who promises invincibility despite both of their shortcomings. Because despite all their bickering and half-hearted insults, Hinata cares for him just as Kageyama does. Because Hinata _knows_ him, knows him better than anyone else, and even with all his flaws still thinks he’s worth trying for. Because sometimes Hinata will grin at him, lopsided and genuine, press their hands together, and Kageyama will forget what it’s like to be lonely. 

It’s because sometimes—well, it’s because sometimes Kageyama’s left thinking that maybe Hinata likes him back. 

Because sometimes Hinata’s gaze lingers when he thinks Kageyama doesn’t notice—except that’s not true, because Kageyama _always_ notices, there’s no other person he notices more than Hinata Shouyou—and sometimes he’ll take Kageyama’s hand on the walk home and Kageyama won’t feel like burning. Sometimes Hinata will sit with him during lunch, even when Kageyama knows he has other friends he could sit with, because _duh, because you’re my best friend, Bakageyama_ ; and sometimes he’ll buy Kageyama his favorite kind of milk before Kageyama even gets to the vending machine. Sometimes he rambles on and on when he knows Kageyama doesn’t feel like talking, and sometimes he’ll be quiet long enough just to listen. Sometimes he knows exactly what Kageyama’s thinking before he says it, but he’ll always make sure that Kageyama’s okay with it before doing anything. And sometimes he’ll lay his head on Kageyama’s shoulder on the bus rides home from games, and sometimes Kageyama will watch the way golden light praises his skin, a quiet reminder of all that he yearns for but he cannot have. 

(Because who does that? Who stays so close to you all the time even when he is something you can never have?)

And things like that, those silent whiplashes of reality, they pull him back to where he really stands in the world. And Kageyama remembers that even with all he has, all the strategies and plays he comes with, this is the one game he will always lose. 

It’s not like he’s never thought about confessing. Of course he has. In so many ways, he’s thought of all the possibilities, of all the settings, and all the different ways he can tell Hinata what he feels. But he has also thought about his chances, and he knows deep down that it’s slim to none. He is afraid, deathly afraid of messing it all up. He’s afraid to lose Hinata, because Hinata is his first real friend—his _best friend_ —and there’s too much at stake. He’s afraid of saying the words only for Hinata to look at him with disgust, to turn him away, and to never speak to him again. He can’t lose that. He can’t lose the warmth, the smiles, the laughter. He can’t lose Hinata. 

But in truth, Kageyama knows that it’s irrational of him to be so afraid. Because Hinata is nothing but kind and honest, and he would never try to hurt Kageyama intentionally. Hinata would never be so mean, he would let Kageyama down in the most gentle way possible, and maybe once it’s over they’d just move on from it and act like nothing ever happened. He’d smile at Kageyama, maybe just a bit sad and a bit pitiful, but he would be nice about all of it. Kageyama knows he shouldn’t be so afraid, not with Hinata. He trusts his heart with Hinata, of course he does, but he’s not willing to risk something so great. If Hinata never looks at him the same way again—he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He doesn’t want to ruin this. He’s afraid he’ll never feel anything like it again. How would he fix things once he’s already willingly broken them?

Kageyama wonders if he needs to be forgiven for something like this. If the reason why he can’t have what he wants is because it’s wrong, because it’s foolish, like his heart is being ripped out of his chest. But how can a love so great, so wonderful, be wrong? How can something like this, something that makes him feel like he’s on top of the world, something that makes him feel so damn _happy,_ like he’s finally done something right after all this time—how can it be wrong? How can it be so _deplorable?_

Kageyama knows Hinata will never look at him the same way he does. Hinata will never look at him and think of stuttering heartbeats, of almost touches, of unkissed lips. Hinata will never look at Kageyama and think of _love._

Kageyama also knows that he doesn’t have much to offer. He’s not the smartest, or the nicest, and he never really knows what to say. He’s too stubborn, too rough around the edges, too blunt with his honesty. He argues too much with Hinata to be called gentle, and he’s never really been one to care so much about these type of things until now. He can’t bake his own chocolates, and he doesn’t know anything about flowers, and he doesn’t know the first thing about making a proper romantic gesture. He’s the farthest thing from boyfriend material, and he knows— _god,_ he knows it—but he’s willing to try. And he’ll have to be _perfect_ , just to make up for the fact that it’s him—unloveable and stupid and selfish. He just wants to be wanted, to be needed. To be loved. To be a _partner_. He can’t make any promises, but Kageyama’s willing to do anything, if it’ll mean Hinata will be happy. For Hinata, he’ll do anything he wants. 

But he doesn’t want Kageyama, does he?

Love is a very cruel, cruel thing. First loves are even more so. 

( _I wonder what it’s like to fall in love,_ Hinata said once. Kageyama tried not to tell him it felt like burning.)

Hinata deserves someone better, and Kageyama knows this like a fundamental truth that is written in his very bones. And one day, Hinata will find someone else, someone nice and warm, who can match his bright attitude, and is capable of making him happy. Someone who isn’t emotionally stunted, who can speak of their feelings easily, and someone who wears their heart on their sleeve and it isn’t afraid to show it. Someone who will call him _Shouyou_ instead of _dumbass,_ with all the fondness that he deserves. Hinata will find someone beautiful and deserving of him, and Kageyama will have to live with bitterness on his tongue. He’ll come to live with the aftertaste. It’s what he’s used to, after all. 

But maybe the worst part is that even after all of this, after all that he’s been through, and all the nights he’s spent with tears in his eyes thinking about how much he loves a boy made of sunburst, Kageyama knows that he’ll still love Hinata through it all, even if it hurts and even if it’s unrequited. He’d choose Hinata every time, in each lifetime, again and again. No matter the outcome. It’s always Hinata, and it’s always going to be Hinata, even if Kageyama doesn’t want it to be. Like a dying star, determined to make it though its terminal trajectory. His sweetest downfall. 

He knows it should be enough. It should be enough, that he gets to see Hinata every day and that he gets to spend time with him, but it isn’t. _It isn’t._ It should be—he _needs it to be._ He cannot ask for more than he is given in fear of losing everything. He is undeservedly fortunate that the universe has allowed him this—has allowed him to feel this much. He knows this. He has lost before, he knows what it feels like, and he’s not willing to do it again. There is a line he cannot cross, and he is on a tightrope with the high risk of falling. 

Kageyama thinks of all the nights he’s spent lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and thinking of what he’d have if he were braver. All the moments he was distracted during practice, too caught up in the way Hinata moved he’d forgotten how to speak. Too distracted thinking about Hinata’s smile, his laugh, his voice, his eyes. All the times he’s spent wondering if he’d ever be able to hold Hinata’s hand without feeling embarrassed; if he’d ever be able to kiss him and hold him close. He thinks about the little touches, wandering gazes, what would it be like if they meant more. And it is unfair, so incredibly unfair, because he must’ve done something wrong in another life to deserve this. Something so cruel and terrible it warranted him all of this. To be able to have something so wanted so near, yet so out of reach. To be able to feel the heat of skin so close to his own, but to be unable to touch. To be able to hold the sun only to have it burn him. To have this unspeakable feeling in his chest, weighing him down until he can’t breathe. To spend his every waking moment thinking of how he can remedy this, how he can change things, how he can learn to fall out of love. To know the infinity of his what if’s, but to also know better than anyone to count his blessings. To have a love so beautiful and so phenomenal, it is something he cannot begin to fathom.

To have such a beautiful boy next to him, but to be unable to find the words to tell him that he loves him. 

To almost be loved by that beautiful boy in return. 

How do you tell someone you love them?

Kageyama doesn’t know. It is the loveliest form of self-destruction. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! <3


End file.
